Flat Tire
by skywalkersamidala
Summary: Who knew something as simple as getting a flat tire could change the entire course of your life? (Modern AU)


**This one was also written for Anidala Week hence why I'm suddenly publishing two new oneshots out of the blue and then disappearing again lmao enjoy :D**

* * *

It was just Padmé's luck to get a flat tire on her way to her first official day of work as a senator. She pulled over and got out, swearing under her breath as she discovered that she didn't have a spare either. How could she have let that happen? She was usually never caught unprepared.

Padmé checked her watch; fifteen minutes until she had to be at work. Maybe she could make it the rest of the way with the flat? No, it was pretty far, and she didn't want to risk damaging the actual wheel of the car because that would be even more expensive to fix. Just as she was about to pull out her phone to locate the nearest auto repair shop, a sign across the street caught her eye: Skywalker Auto Repair. Huh. That was convenient.

She got back in the car and drove across the street, then parked in front of the garage and got out. Padmé poked her head inside. "Hello?" she called uncertainly.

"Just a second," a male voice replied. Glancing around, Padmé realized it had come from underneath a car. There was a pair of legs sticking out as well. A moment later the figure was scooching out from under the car and straightening up and dusting himself off, and when he finally looked up and met her eyes Padmé's heart almost stopped.

He was without a doubt the most attractive human being she had ever seen in her entire life. His sandy hair was falling in his eyes and there were grease smears all over his face, which should've been gross but was somehow extremely hot. He also had a thin scar by his eye; again, it should've detracted from his good looks but actually only enhanced them. Padmé really thought she was going to pass out.

The mechanic cleared his throat, and Padmé jumped a little and cursed herself for her distraction. Honestly, she was a thirty-year-old U.S. senator, not a lovesick teenager. What on earth was wrong with her?

"Hi," he said a bit awkwardly, and was it just Padmé's imagination or did he seem flustered too? "What can I do for you?"

"Um, hi," she said, relieved when her voice came out even. "I have a flat tire and I was wondering if you could fix it for me."

The mechanic gave her an easy grin. "Sure. Fixing cars is kinda what I do here."

Padmé flushed. "Right. Yeah. Um, I just parked my car right outside, so…"

"Okay. Let's go take a look."

"You don't need to finish that first?" Padmé said, waving a hand at the car he'd been working on a minute ago. "Because I can wait if you're busy." What? She _couldn't_ wait, she had to be at work in…ten minutes now. What was she _doing?_

Luckily, the mechanic quickly said, "Oh, no, that can wait. I've been working on it for days, it's a real mess. Generator fault, malfunctioning starter motor, faulty wires in the clutch cables…" He trailed off, blushing, as he saw Padmé's blank look. "Um, anyway, yeah, that can wait. I'll just go check out what kind of tire you need so you can be on your way."

Padmé nodded and led him out to her car, trying not to stare _too_ hard as he crouched down to inspect the flat tire. Even in his baggy mechanic's coveralls, it was easy to see what a nicely-shaped—

"All right, this is a pretty standard tire," the mechanic said, interrupting Padmé's rapidly derailing train of thought and making her face flame. "I'll be back in a sec."

"Okay," she said rather faintly.

Padmé spent the next couple minutes furiously trying to compose herself, though the way her stomach swooped when the mechanic came back with a tire told her that she hadn't done a very good job of it. He went to work replacing the flat tire with the new one, and Padmé was so caught up in watching him that she didn't even spare her increasing lateness a second thought.

"All set," the mechanic said, standing back up and startling Padmé out of her reverie.

She quickly started digging around in her purse for her wallet, blushing again. "Thank you so much," she said after she'd paid.

"No problem."

Padmé turned to get back in her car, but suddenly—

"Are you free on Friday?"

She whirled back around and stared at the mechanic, who was wincing and clearly internally berating himself for what he'd just blurted out, his face the color of a firetruck. "W-what?" she stammered.

"Um, sorry, I-I didn't mean—" He looked like he was going to be sick. "It's just, you're—you're really pretty, and I thought—sorry, never mind, just forget I even—"

"I get out of work at five," Padmé interrupted, heart pounding. Was she—was she saying yes to a date with someone she'd met ten minutes ago and whose _name_ she didn't even know? She was _never_ this impulsive. But when the mechanic's astounded expression gradually morphed into a shy smile, she felt in her gut that this was… _right_ somehow.

"O-okay," he stuttered, looking like he hardly dared believe his luck. "Um, I'm Anakin, by the way. Skywalker. Anakin Skywalker." He glanced up at the sign over the garage with his last name on it and reddened some more. "Um, obviously, since it says 'Skywalker' right there and all. Uh—"

"I'm Padmé Amidala," Padmé said, cutting off his nervous rambling.

"Padmé," Anakin repeated, almost to himself. She pinpointed the exact moment he realized who she was: the color drained from his face and his eyes widened and his expression went from one of embarrassment to utter mortification. "Oh my God, you're—aren't you that senator who was just elected?"

"Yes," Padmé said, torn between sympathy and amusement at the look on his face.

Now he _really_ looked like he was going to be sick. "Shit, I'm so sorry, I had no idea—I never would've asked if—"

"Here's my office address," she said, pulling one of her brand-new business cards out of her purse and pushing it into his hands. "You can pick me up there at five on Friday."

"Okay," Anakin said weakly. Then he blinked. "Wait. Really? You actually want to—to go on a date with me? I'm just a mechanic."

"Wow, you're a mechanic? I had no idea," Padmé said dryly, making Anakin's face go from pale back to red. "Besides, going on a date with you would be a lot easier than purposefully getting another flat tire so I'd have an excuse to see you again, wouldn't it?" Because she'd been seriously considering that until he'd asked her out.

Anakin looked even more dumbfounded at the implication that she'd been immediately attracted to him too. "Oh. I-I guess so," he said.

Padmé figured she'd better go before she freaked Anakin out even more. Also, she was _really_ late for work. "Well, I have to get going. See you Friday?" She couldn't help a note of uncertainty from creeping into her voice; she was half afraid he'd say never mind, this had all been a mistake, he hadn't been thinking straight.

But to her relief, Anakin gave her an embarrassed but sincere smile. "Yeah. Friday. It was nice to meet you, Padmé. Or, um, Senator Amidala?"

"Padmé, please," she said quickly, smiling back at him. "It was nice to meet you too, Anakin."

* * *

"I still can't believe how awkward you were," Padmé said, giggling.

Anakin huffed indignantly. "As if _you_ were the picture of poise that day."

"I was a hell of a lot better than you!"

"Okay, well, you weren't the one who accidentally asked out a U.S. senator, were you?"

Padmé laughed even louder and rested her hand on her baby bump. "Thank God you did, though," she said, her teasing grin softening into a genuine smile.

Anakin beamed and moved his hand to her belly as well, their matching wedding rings bumping against each other as he covered her hand with his own. "Thank God _you_ got a flat tire," he said, kissing her on the cheek.

Padmé hummed in agreement and rested her head on his shoulder, smiling again as she felt one of the twins kick. To think she'd only ended up meeting her husband and father of her children because she'd just _happened_ to get a flat tire in exactly the right place and at exactly the right time. The universe truly did work in mysterious ways.


End file.
